


We make the rules

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedannibal in Florence, F/M, Nipple Play, a bit of femdom, playing strip chess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: When bad weather disrupts their plans, Hannibal proposes an alternative entertainment.





	We make the rules

Dark clouds cover the horizon, turning the day into dusk and sky crashes with noise and flash. Every strobe of lighting illuminates the subtle furrow of Bedelia’s brow. She stands by the window, her view obscured by the sudden downpour, seeing her own reflection in the glass. The second, familiar figure appears behind her.

“The Tuscan weather is more unpredictable than you,” she addresses Hannibal’s mirrored image.

He smiles at her remark and wraps his arm around her, kissing her temple. Bedelia leans into the touch of his lips, before turning her attention back to the window. It captures their reflection like a frame. They look beautiful and timeless, a striking couple, safely nestled together behind the veil, observing the world on the other side.

“The weather displays the Italian temperament,” he says, his breath warm in her ear, his fingers playing with the lock of her hair, attempting to soothe her.

“I was looking forward to visiting the Boboli Gardens,” she remains displeased. They have spent a lot of time exploring the city and this is their next destination. Hannibal enjoys being the guide, Bedelia enjoys his expert knowledge, but, mostly, they enjoy each other’s company.

“Unfortunately, I cannot control the rain,” Hannibal states with all sincerity and she knows he would stop at nothing, yet this does not fall under his abilities. Bedelia hums in agreement.

“Perhaps we can find something to entertain ourselves with, until the sky clears,” he offers.

“What did you have in mind?”

Hannibal goes to his desk and takes out an elegant wooden box.

“One of the professors from England gifted me with a chess set. Perhaps we could play a game.”

Bedelia regards the box, and Hannibal, with mild interest. She was expecting something more.

“You enjoy games,” he comments, noticing her disinterest.

“As do you,” she retorts with a smile,” but I do not think this one will _challenge_ us.” Hannibal remains silent.

“Have you ever played strip poker?” he suddenly asks, still holding the chess box.

“No, I have not. Have you?” she asks, gazing at Hannibal incredulously.

“No.”

“You don’t suggest we play it, do you?”

“Strip poker, no. However, we could play strip chess,” a playful spark in his eyes.

“My knowledge of strip based games is very rudimentary, but I do not believe that one exists,” Bedelia’s tone remains indifferent.

“But it could. We make the rules, remember,” he promised her their life could be whatever they want it to be and, so far, has kept his promise.

“All right,” she entertains the thought,” what would be the rules here?”

Hannibal considers it for a moment.

“You either sacrifice a piece on a board- “he pauses for effect,” or a piece of clothing.”

Bedelia is suddenly intrigued. “The other person shall choose the item of clothing to be removed,” she adds.

“Perfect,” Hannibal smiles at the prospect and begins to set up the board on the small table between the armchairs. Bedelia joins him with two glasses of Campari tonic. Handing him the glass, she notices he took the liberty of assigning her the white pieces. She raises an eyebrow in a question.

“Ladies first,” he says with a smug smile, inclining his head as he accepts the glass.

“Always a gentleman,” Bedelia responds with a smirk of her own.

The game has begun.

Their opening moves are casual, pawn forward, matched with another. It isn’t until Hannibal moves, takes _en-passant_ and Bedelia faces the first choice.

“Take the piece,” she says casually, watching, amused, as Hannibal’s eyes fill with disappointment.

He takes a sip of his drink and focuses his gaze on the board. Yet this is for naught, as the next threatened piece is his.

“Pick an item of clothing,” a spark returns to his eyes.

“How predictable. I guess it is a good thing we are not playing poker. The waistcoat, if you please.”

Hannibal is eager to comply, removing it and placing it neatly on the side of his chair. A smile plays on Bedelia’s lips.

“Bishop takes Bishop?” she asks two moves later; Hannibal’s chess strategy seems to be as predictable as his impatience to undress.

“No,” he replies simply, as she knew he would. She considers her options with a long inhale and exhale.

“A sock,” a maddening calm in her voice; the more crestfallen he looks, the more entertaining the game becomes. Hannibal takes both socks off.

“Only one item of clothing per piece. Remember the rules,” she says with all seriousness.

With a grave look in his eyes, Hannibal returns his attention to the board. Changing his tactic, he concentrates on gaining advantage over her pieces. He succeeds when his pawn overtakes her Rook. His hand hovers over the white piece when her voice stops him in his tracks.

“Choose an item.”

He stares at her, eyes wide, unable to hide his anticipation.

“Your blouse,” his voice low and full of need.

She sets her glass to the side and begins to unbutton her blouse, slowly, her eyes not leaving his. When she undoes all the buttons, her hands move up and gently brush the silky material off her shoulders, letting it fall on the chair behind her. Hannibal’s mouth falls slightly open, seeing that she has foregone her bustier for today. She shifts her body to the side, as to retrieve her glass, and his gaze follows her half-naked body. A smile delicately pulls at her lips, one he does not notice, too preoccupied with her other assets. Absentmindedly, he bites his lower lip and shifts in his chair, which all of a sudden became uncomfortable.

Bedelia leans forward and considers her next move. She slowly moves the piece.

“Check,” she reclines back in her chair.

Hannibal’s eyes flicker between her and the board as though unsure what to do next. His move, however, is better than she expected. He bravely defends his weakened King.

Bedelia’s fingers stroke her Queen piece, as she looks at him, pondering his strategy. She takes a sip of her drink and lets the glass brush over her breast as she puts it down. The cold surface leaves a moist trail on her skin. Hannibal licks his lips and reluctantly returns his attention to the other game in place. And makes the mistake she was waiting for.

Her fingers wrap around the white Queen; she makes her move and corners the black King.

“Checkmate.”

Hannibal stares at the board in disbelief, his eyes and mind replaying the last moves. He finally looks up at her, having made his conclusion.

“You did not play fair,” he states, not taking defeat well.

She gives him an assessing look, the one he knew so well from their countless therapy hours.

“I played by the rules. _Your rules_.” He cannot argue with that. “But are you really defeated if you finally get what you longed for this whole time?” she rises and approaches him slowly, her eyes never leaving his. She places her knee on his chair, dangerously close to his groin and runs her hands through his soft hair.

“And what would that be?” he presses his lips together, pretending indifference, but with no conviction. She tilts her breast toward his mouth.

“You tell me,” her hands continue to stroke his hair and her tone remains casual, as though she was not standing half naked before him.

Hannibal has no answer. Instead, his teeth gently graze her nipple and a breathy gasp escapes her mouth. He smiles, pleased with her response. He takes the nipple between his teeth again, then draws his tongue along her breast before finally taking it into his mouth. He begins to suck, hard, and Bedelia cries out in sudden delight. He nuzzles and kisses his way to her other breast and lavishes it with the same attention.

The pleasure is so intense and Bedelia feels her legs beginning to shake. She presses her hands on his shoulders and gently pushes him away. Hannibal groans audibly as her nipple leaves his mouth with a loud, popping sound. He looks up at her, lips parted, gaze burning. Bedelia likes having him stare at her this way; person suit discarded, eyes darker than ever, yet there is no danger in the black irises, only desire and adoration. She likes him being hers.

“Would like to remove the rest of my clothes?” she touches his cheek.

“Yes,” he says with a low growl.

Bedelia lifts herself up, allowing him better access. His hands move to caress the side of her breasts before wandering down to her backside. Slowly, he unzips her skirt and eases it down over the curve of her hips. His eyes tremble with lust, yet his hands remain unrushed.

Watching the intensity of his self-control sends waves of heat to her lower abdomen. By the time he hooks his thumbs inside of her underwear and draws the lace down, she is aroused to the point of madness.

He looks up at her again, waiting for her direction. When she says nothing, he flicks his tongue over her hard, still reddish nipple before claiming it with his mouth once more. Bedelia’s fingers tug at his hair.

His warm hands return to her back, gripping her buttocks. He shifts his left arm down her hips, before moving it along her inner thighs, slowly caressing every inch of her skin until he reaches her wet core. Deft fingers trace the swollen lips of her labia and tease her clit before sliding inside. He works them back and forth until he finds her sensitive spot and curls his fingers forward, pressing and stroking.

Bedelia’s knees buckle and his strong arm wraps around her waist, keeping her in place. With a loud moan, she throws her head back in abandon, letting the pleasure take over her.

The rain and gardens are forgotten. Of all the games they played, this is the one they enjoy the most. The one where they are both winners.

**Author's Note:**

> I must confess I do not know how to play chess (please don't judge me), but I did research the rules and moves. Since chess is not the most significant game here, I kept it brief, without details, still I apologise for any mistakes.
> 
> I will never tire of these two. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
